Bloodlines
by amerikanka
Summary: An insight into the world of Rabastan Lestrange as he reflects on his family and the other pureblood houses, including the one his brother married.


Written for the Sibling Challenge on HPFC. Thanks to a lovely beta, **MaidenStar**!

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Rabastan Lestrange downed the last of his Firewhiskey and stood up, not letting the fact that the alcohol was flooding his head show. He was a Death Eater and he had to prove that he was invincible...or something like that. He scowled as he slammed his glass on the table, flicking a coin that didn't cover half of what he'd drunk to the barkeeper. The man knew better than to question someone so clearly comfortable in dark robes.

He left the bar with a sneer on his face, rolling his shoulders as he stepped out into the falling dusk. He was alone on the streets but people got out of his way, and he didn't fear that pathetic Order of the Phoenix. Their kind was a dying breed, and his blood, pure and true was finally coming into its proper place. Of course, his family had been after him for years to find a suitable woman to marry and continue their line. He was the eldest in the family but he wasn't the first married—that honor went to Rodolphus.

Rabastan felt a sneer coiling on his face. And what a prize his little brother had claimed. The wild-haired, glorious Bellatrix Black, who had some of the most coveted blood in her veins. By rights, she should have gone to Rabastan, but as the Lestrange brothers quickly learned, no one told Bellatrix what to do.

Except for their lord. The Dark Lord could tell them all to crawl and they would prostrate themselves. Such loyalty was highly prized among his followers, and it was what had gotten Rabastan the mark on his arm. But if he let himself admit it, it sickened him.

He was doing what was expected, no more and no less, and he was exactly where he had always wanted to be. But he was still less, because he was not married, and he was less still because, if he faced it, Rodolphus had always been better. His sneer turned to a snarl as he fingered his wand, shoving someone out of the way who wasn't moving fast enough. His little brother, the baby who his father had told him to protect, had been perfect. Was still perfect.

At school, Rodolphus had friends who upheld the pureblood status. Rabastan had had the purest blood in his year, and the others in Slytherin had been cringing cowards, not ready to duel when they picked a fight. One had even turned him in, the utmost in blood treachery. He'd served detention for two weeks because of a spell to teach the boy a lesson, and hated every minute of it. Debasing himself for the amusement of others was something that went so heavily against what he was born to be, he could scarcely stand it. If Dumbledore hadn't been headmaster, if Rabastan hadn't been told – _ordered_ – to maintain a low profile, he would have refused.

It was for this same reason that he was disgusted when his younger brother's wife draped herself over the Dark Lord like a common whore. It disgraced her, which disgraced their name, which was an insult to Rabastan himself. And to think that he'd once been...

There was no time for thoughts like that. He stifled a hiss of pain as he felt the Dark Mark on his arm burn, and he Apparated on the spot to where his Lord stood waiting. "Rabastan Lestrange," the cool voice said.

"My Lord," Rabastan replied with a deep bow. He would not kneel, but proper respect was due.

"Regulus Black has not responded to my summons. Find him and bring him to me."

"Yes, my Lord." Clearly, that was all the Dark Lord wanted of him, so Rabastan bowed again and departed. It was strange when the Dark Lord would call upon one alone, but not unheard of. Rabastan was one of his oldest followers, and high in the hierarchy, so it was not as strange. But Regulus Black had gone missing? Very strange indeed. Rabastan shook off the last of the Firewhiskey. He needed to be sober.

He turned up at his brother's house in an hour, letting himself in without knocking. He found

Rodolphus in the lounge, sipping at something so potent that Rabastan could smell the alcohol across the room. "'Stan!" The younger man called. Rabastan looked at him coolly.

"Where is your wife?"

"Bella? I dunno. Come on, sit down and have a drink. I haven't seen you in a while."

"I'm on business, Rodolphus."

"I know that, you're never here to see me and Bella. Why do you want her, anyway?"

"I told you, business."

"She fucking you behind my back?"

Rabastan blinked slowly. "No," he said, ice in his voice. "Tell her I need to have words with her." He turned and strode out of the house. His brother was a disgrace.

He considered many things to be a disgrace, truth be told. His brother, his brother's wife, the way many of the Death Eaters threw themselves at the Dark Lord... it was disgusting. It was also disgusting that Rodolphus was stumbling out the door after him. "'Stan! Wait!"

Rabastan closed his eyes for a moment, then turned around and faced his brother. "What, Rodolphus?"

"I'll help you find Bella."

"I am not going to find your errant wife. I am on business."

"You've mentioned." Rabastan started walking again and Rodolphus kept pace with him. They looked like each other, though Rabastan was leaner and taller, and had more lines on his face. Both had brown hair, though Rodolphus let his grow shaggy and had a four day old beard on his face. Rabastan dressed more sharply, kept his appearances up and his hair trimmed. There was not a trace of facial hair on the older brother.

"Why don't you ever go out and have fun, 'Stan?" Rodolphus asked. "Bella and I went out with Evan and his girlfriend the other night." When Rabastan didn't answer, he continued. "We rule England mate. Enjoy it."

Rabastan halted, turning to his brother. He seemed to be fumbling for words before he said, "You do not rule England; that is the Dark Lord's privilege. And while you have your fun, I do the work. Now go back to your house. I have business to attend to."

"You always have business," Rodolphus muttered before turning away. Rabastan paused only briefly before whirling on the spot and Disapparating. If anything, he had sensed a tone of something akin to disgruntlement in his brother's tone, like Rodolphus was unhappy that his brother... what? Never spent any time with him?

"We are not young anymore," Rabastan muttered to himself, then was sickened that he was talking aloud where no one could hear. He supposed that it was better that no one heard, but still...it was revolting that he had degenerated into speaking with himself. He gripped his wand and his scowl deepened as he strode along a darkened street. _Rodolphus has to get along by himself. I cannot coddle him anymore. _Of course, it was a debate if the elder brother had ever coddled the younger. But

Rabastan had taught him everything, enabling the younger boy to rise to the top of his class, all in the name of keeping their family high and sparing them embarrassment.

That was all he ever had to do, really. He had to uphold the name of their family, blood purity to the end. Hopefully Bellatrix would bear them children, because finding a pureblood woman was getting harder. Mixing the Black blood with Lestrange hadn't been done too recently either, but it always produced fine results in the past.

Somewhere inside, he had a hunch that Bellatrix would not settle down with children. Somewhere deeper inside, he feared that the reign of the purebloods was coming to an end. It had been why he had thrown himself into the Dark Lord's cause. And yet... and yet he still feared it. Bellatrix simply _must_ continue the line. She was the last option, even if she had been tainted by her blood-traitor sister. Hopefully that was a fluke—Andromeda must have been the exception, not the rule. An entire family of Blacks proved it. They might not have been as ancient as the Lestrange family, but they would do. They would have to.

But only if he could find the youngest Black brother. If he thought about it, perhaps the Blacks weren't as loyal as he'd thought. There was the eldest Black brother, disowned at sixteen for being a blood traitor. Andromeda, marrying that mudblood. Then there were stories of a Black further back in the line... who was it, Alphred? He had supported the eldest brother in his treachery. Then there was a woman who had married a Muggle. One of them had supported Muggle rights, another who had married a _Weasley_...

And now the youngest Black was missing in the service of the Dark Lord. Something had gone awry, and Rabastan wondered why he hadn't seen it before. He needed a way to prove Bellatrix's loyalty, not only to the Dark Lord but to the Lestrange family. Perhaps... the Dark Lord had mentioned something that he was charging only his most loyal with. If he entrusted Bellatrix with this secret, Rabastan would ensure that it was placed under Lestrange care, and not given over to the degenerate Blacks.

Rabastan could keep his family in line. It was quickly becoming clear to him that the Blacks could not.


End file.
